


Just A Dream

by suchanoldcliche



Series: OTP: Steal You Away From the Storm [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF
Genre: BuckyXan, Fluff and Angst, Hallucinations, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, Rehabilitation, Suicide Attempt, world war ii au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-03-24
Packaged: 2018-03-13 23:10:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3399746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanoldcliche/pseuds/suchanoldcliche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bucky Barnes is drafted to join the 107th Battalion, he's not only leaving his best friend behind -- he's leaving his long-term boyfriend behind as well. After being abducted by HYDRA, he's found by Captain America...</p><p>... But what if they'd been too late?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I was counting on forever...

**Author's Note:**

> This is sad as hell. This is an AU based on the relationship between my OC and my friend's (perfect) Bucky account.
> 
> I know this is gonna hurt, so I'm sorry in advance. I'm dedicating this to you, though. As... messed up as that may be. (Heh...) I hope you like it~!

**June 1943**

He's known this was coming. After Pearl Harbor, even before the draft was implemented, he’d... he just _knew_ this would happen. And he was alright with it, because if anyone can get the job done, it’s his hero. But nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his best friend, his _partner_ , standing in the doorway to his bedroom, all dressed up like a soldier. He takes a moment to process what it is he's seeing, slowly closing his book as a nervous smile pulls a corner of his mouth up. "Wow,” he breathes, setting his book aside. “You look..."

A small smile curls the man's lips as he glances to the younger boy. There's a fondness in his voice as he says, "Yeah, I know. Weird, right?"

"Super weird. But damn, d'you look good in that uniform."

Bucky chuckles as he removes his hat. "You think?"

The younger of the two huffs as he gets to his feet. "Do I think," he mumbles, shaking his head as he walks over to him. "Do I _think_?"

" _Do_ you?"

Xan grins. "I _know_." He stands on his toes, hands braced against Bucky’s chest as he leans in to kiss him. Just as he feels hands on his hips, he pulls back, lingering close enough so their lips brush as he whispers, "I'm so proud of you..."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah.” And then he’s smiling again, his hands moving to grip the man’s tie. He gently pulls down on it, a sneaky look in his eye as he steps back, taking his tie with him. “My soldier…”

A quiet chuckle leaves Bucky as he follows, fingers already unbuttoning the boy’s shirt. “You really like that, huh?”

“Oh my God, yeah. Yes. _Fuck_ , I knew you were gorgeous, but---”

And then he’s cut off, squealing with surprise when suddenly he’s being kissed again and Bucky’s lifting him up, hands beneath his thighs. Xan’s arms immediately wrap around Bucky’s neck, his legs around his hips, and he sighs into the kiss. The way these two fit together is nothing short of magic to the boy, and God, is he gonna miss this. He’s gonna miss how right this feels, despite the law trying to say it’s illegal. He’s gonna miss how whole he is with Bucky around, how safe he feels, how _loved_. He’ll miss having his other half waking up beside him. He’ll miss making extra food and bringing it to Steve because Bucky’s busy and the boy knows he worries about his best friend.

He’s gonna miss how his soul seems to buzz whenever Bucky’s close, like he comes alive around the man. He’s gonna miss his gentle touch, his kiss, his crooked smile… God, he’ll miss _everything_. But he knows Bucky’s doing a good thing. He knows Bucky’s going to work hard. Fight. Do all he can to be the soldier they need. He’s probably scared out of his mind, but… Xan knows he can do it. He _knows_.

Because to Xan, Bucky’s the bravest man in the whole world.

 

~ ~ ~

**June 1943**

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” Xan asks, rolling onto his side and resting a hand on his partner’s chest. Bucky’s been quiet, quieter than usual, and it’s got the boy worried. “...Worried about tomorrow?”

“What?” Bucky looks to Xan and blinks, almost like he’d been somewhere else and hadn’t heard a thing Xan said. “Sorry, I was…”

The boy frowns. “What’s wrong?”

There’s something in Bucky’s eyes that Xan doesn’t recognise, and it makes him sit up. He’s about to ask about it when Bucky’s up too, letting the blanket bunch up in his lap as he reaches for Xan’s hand. “Hey, I’m---”

“You look scared,” Xan says, the words falling from his lips before he can stop them from leaving him. “Is there something I don’t---”

“No, no. No, I’ve told you everything.”

He pauses, looking away from him as he fiddles with the blanket, his mind racing like crazy. And then it hits him like a ton of bricks. “...Steve.”

“What?”

“You’re worried about Steve.” It’s not a question. Xan’s quiet, then turns to face Bucky and takes both his hands in his own. “I’m gonna take care of him, mi sol. I promise you I will. He’ll be okay. I know I’m not you and I get into all kinds’a trouble myself, but don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s alright. I’ll write you all the time and let you know how he’s doin’, too.”

Bucky’s lips slowly twist into a smile, that same crooked smile that made Xan fall in love with him, and he chuckles under his breath as he shakes his head. “I know ya will.”

“...So it’s not that?”

“No.”

“The hell is it, then? ‘Cause… I got nothin’.”

“ _You_ , ya punk.”

That throws him for a loop. Xan blinks, releasing Bucky’s hands. “...Me? What--... What _about_ me?”

“What’re you gonna do when I’m gone?”

That… That sounds way too much like a goodbye. But he didn’t mean it as one. Right? Xan just stares at him, his eyes burning with tears that he refuses to let fall because goddamn it, Bucky Barnes is NOT gonna die over there. He tries to find words, but he can’t. He tries to find his voice, but he can’t. Because everything is suddenly how dark and empty his world will feel without Bucky, and it’s too much.

Within seconds, his arms are around the soldier’s neck and he’s got his face buried in his shoulder. Strong arms wrap around Xan’s torso, making the boy feel safe all over again, but he can’t, he shouldn’t, this is _temporary_. Shit. And then he’s crying, and it’s hitting him like a train that Bucky’s leaving, that Xan’s gonna be _alone_ , and he’s not sure he can handle it.

“Hey, hey. Shhh, it’s okay. Babydoll, it’s okay. Breathe.”

“I don’t want you to go,” he mumbles, fully aware of how childish he sounds. “I’m so scared, Buck. I know you gotta do this, I know you ain’t got a choice, but can’t you just… Can’t they pick someone else? You got people t’look after _here_. You got Steve. And God, we both know I can’t take care of myself.”

Bucky’s quiet for a moment as he rubs the back of Xan’s head, fingers tangling in the mess of curls. It makes him smile, though the smile’s short-lived. “Yes, you can,” he says firmly, pulling back to look the boy in the eye. “You can, and you _will_.”

“N-Not… Not without _you_.”

“You did it for years, kid.”

“Yeah. D’you not remember what I was like when we met?”

The look on Bucky’s face tells Xan that, yes, he remembers. In fact, his eyes are shining with the same kind of amusement as they had that very day. “Yeah, I do.”

“Yeah. Same thing here.”

“You won’t be that bad.”

“Oh, really?” Xan lets go of the man so he can wipe his eyes. A self-deprecating laugh leaves him as he shakes his head. “And why d’you think that?”

“‘Cause I’m gonna take care of you.”

He wants to ask how that makes this situation _any_ better, or how he plans on doing that from _Europe_ , but when he lowers his hands, he forgets how to breathe. He covers his mouth, his expression one of absolute shock before he looks Bucky in the eye. “...Y-You---”

“If you’ll let me,” he whispers, and oh God, Xan’s heart is in his throat. “You’re my whole world, kid. You an’ Stevie. I wanna come back home an’ know you’ll still be here.”

“Of _course_ I’ll still be here, you idiot,” he breathes. “I _love_ you.”

Xan lowers his hands just as Bucky leans in to kiss him. They find their way to his face, thumbs caressing the man’s jawbone. His heart is _soaring_ , and he should probably feel guilty for how much he’s shaking, but he can’t help it. When Bucky breaks the kiss, he’s still close. Close enough that Xan feels hot air brush against his lips as the man says, “So is that a yes?”

“ _Yes_. God, yes.”

They pull away from each other just enough so both sets of eyes can glance down as Bucky slides the diamond ring onto Xan’s finger. The boy can’t believe it, his free hand covering his mouth again as he starts to laugh. “Xander Barnes…”

 

~ ~ ~

**July 1943**

_Dear Bucky,_

_Things are so weird without you here. It was Steve’s birthday the other day, and I wanted so badly to go over to his house and bake a cake with him or something. You know, like we used to. But he’s not there anymore. Seems like he left right after you did. I don’t know why. I wish I did. I’ve asked around, but no one seems to know. You and I were the only ones who really paid much attention to him, I guess._

_I think I was right. I don’t think he likes me much. Last time I saw him, he kinda gave me this look when he saw the ring you gave me. I couldn’t tell you what the look was for, though. Maybe I’m just scared._

_I know you’re too busy to answer this, so don’t worry about it. I just thought I’d let you know about Steve. I’m doing okay, all things considered. Miss you like hell._

_I’m proud of you._

_Xan_

 

~ ~ ~

**August 1943**

_Got into a real bad fight today._

_I don’t even remember why it happened. I’d gone out to get a drink with an old friend of mine, one thing led to another, and suddenly we were fighting. A lot of the things he said were horrible._ Horrible. _It was like someone took the guy over and started using him as a way to cut me at the knees._

_...Oh, I remember what it was now. He insulted you. Found out about our relationship and called us… things. I won’t repeat them. I’m sure you can imagine how bad it got._

_Anyway, I can’t go back to that bar anymore, but it’s fine. It was the bar we got into that screaming match in. Remember that? I do._

_Can I just say that you are the king of make-up sex? Jesus Christ._

_Hope you’re okay. I miss you. Send me a letter when you can. x_

_Xan_

 

~ ~ ~

**September 1943**

_I’m starting to see why Steve left. New York just doesn’t feel like home without you. Not anymore. I’m considering a road trip myself, but I’m afraid that if I go, I won’t get your letter. So I’m not leaving, don’t worry. It’s just… not right here. Not anymore._

_I sang something I wrote for you tonight. At that bar we used to love going to. They all stood up. It made me cry so much. I think they knew I dedicated the song to you._

_I asked my mom to watch over you. Please be safe._

_I love you, mi sol._

_Xan_

 

~ ~ ~

**November 1943**

_You have to come back._

_I don’t care how, I don’t care what it takes, but baby, you have to come back._

_I got the letter saying you’ve been taken today. As soon as I did, I ran inside and started writing this. Buck, you can’t leave me yet. You can’t. I’m saving to buy us a better apartment. Still in Brooklyn, ‘cause I know how much you love it here, but this one will have a more space. We can get a bigger bed than the one I got. We can get dogs and a real nice liquor cabinet. We can even have a spare room and have Steve live with us, if you want._

_You gotta come back. I mean, I know it’s not your choice. I know you’re being held against your will. But you gotta come back. I believe in you. I do. You’re gonna be okay. Remember when my mom died, and I was so, so broken for months afterwards? Remember what you kept telling me?_

_Just breathe. You’ve still got so much life ahead of you. You’ll get through this, because you’re one of the strongest guys I know._

_Bucky, you’re my everything. I think it goes without saying, but I’m gonna say it anyway. I wanna marry you. I want to have a family. I want to be that pair of confirmed bachelors that are so ridiculously in love that it makes people sick. Because I am. God, am I in love with you. I want to spend the rest of my life picking fights with you because you can’t seem to put a vodka bottle down once you start drinking. I want to make you breakfast and I want to sing to you when you can’t sleep and I want… I want_ you.

_Please pull through this. Please. I need you._

_Xan_

 

~ ~ ~

**December 1943**

It’s almost Christmas, but Xan feels anything but cheerful.

For weeks, he’s been pacing back and forth within his small apartment. For weeks, he’s avoided sleep. He’s avoided his bedroom, really. He doesn’t go beyond the living room anymore, because when he tries to, he realises how empty the place is without Bucky, and he just, he can’t take it. He _can’t_. He can’t be here without his other half.

Adjusting his bow tie in the mirror, the boy sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair before turning on his heel. He’s supposed to be singing Christmas carols at this banquet thing for all the military wives in New York - hence the poppy pinned to the lapel of his blazer - and he really, _really_ doesn’t want to. Because this is the first Christmas in ten years that he’s spending without Bucky. And God, he still doesn’t even know if the man’s alive or…

No, he can’t think that. Not now.

As he opens the door, he’s surprised to find a man on the other side, hand raised and balling into a fist as though he’d been about to knock. At first, he doesn’t register anything, seeing a man in the threshold of his home in a military uniform. He just blinks, and the first thing he thinks to say is, “Merry Christmas.”

Unfortunately, the moment the greeting leaves his lips, he realises what’s happening.

And, just like that, his whole world comes crashing down around him.

All the soldier can tell Xan is that Captain America stormed a building - what they thought to be a Nazi base of some kind, where they’d been keeping prisoners - and they discovered the body of James Buchanan Barnes strapped to a table. He’d been disoriented, but didn’t seem to be in pain. They were unable to stabilize him, however, and he died before they got him back to camp.

He was to be shipped back and given a proper burial in Arlington, and the military was willing to fly Xan there to be with him. The boy could hardly believe his ears. Nodding numbly, he closes the door after the soldier leaves, holding the letter in his hand to his chest as though the paper could fill the gaping hole threatening to swallow him whole. Bucky’s gone. Bucky’s… _gone_.

“No...”

He staggers back a few feet before falling to the ground, tears already falling from his eyes. His whole body is shaking, and it’s all he can do to wrap his arms around his knees and cry.

[I’m so sorry, Bucky…]

 

~ ~ ~

**January 1944**

The ceremony is beautiful. There are so many people, both from the battalion and from New York, who fly in to remember the incredible man that was James Barnes. Considering he and Xan had kept their relationship a secret, Xan sits on the side while friends and loved ones (Steve) get up and speak about him. The stories make the boy smile, but not once can he bring himself to laugh. Not once.

It feels like the light in his life has been extinguished, and all Xan feels is dark. Cold. Like the warmth in everything is just _gone_ , because his sun is dead. Sure, all stars die out at some point, but he thought… he thought they’d have more time. He thought they’d be okay.

Apparently not.

Steve is the last to take the podium, and as hard as Xan tries not to pay attention, he can’t help it. His fingers nervously fiddle with the engagement ring on his finger, ignoring the looks from other people when Steve, very casually, glances over in Xan’s direction as he talks. He tells the story Xan knows very well. The story of a young orphan who stood up to bullies. Who saw someone smaller and didn’t hesitate to protect them. That’s what Bucky did. That’s who he was. He was a protector. He was someone who would’ve given his life to keep his friends safe.

That’s how they met. That day, Xan had gotten into a fight with someone, and the guy was kicking his ass. Bucky happened to have been passing by at the time, and seeing the obvious difference between the relatively scrawny five-foot-eight boy and the wall of a man, he stepped in and saved him.

Like some kind of knight in a fairy tale.

Xan wasn’t about to let some random guy be the hero, though. No, he was sarcastic and witty and, “I coulda done that myself, thanks. I was just makin’ ‘im /feel/ good.”

To which Bucky laughed -- actually _laughed_ \-- and said, “Yeah, right, kid.”

The moment Xan looked into those amused blue eyes, he fell in love. The rest, as they say, is history.

Until now, that is. And Steve has the whole place in tears, goddamn it, and it takes everything in Xan not to get up and walk out. This hurts. It hurts to think Bucky’s not coming back. It hurts to think he’ll never be able to look into those eyes again, or to hug him, or to tease him when his hair’s getting too long. It hurts to think he has to learn how to be alone again, because he’s not ready for that. He’s _not_.

Just as Xan’s about to leave, however, Steve looks to him again. “All of that’s true. We all know it. But what many people _don’t_ know about Bucky, is that… he was a very, very loving man.”

The boy freezes, his breath caught in his throat.

“And he was loved in return,” Steve continues, tearing his eyes away from Xan to look at the crowd. “Not many got to see him like that. He was… real standoffish a lot of the time. Part of his charm, or… something.” A couple of people chuckle, and Steve’s back to looking at Xan. “But for those of us who did, it’s what we’ll remember most about him. His selflessness. How much he cared. How he somehow managed to make you feel like… like you’d be alright, somehow.” Both of them are in tears when Steve looks away a second time. “I remember the day he came to me and told me he wanted to get married. He talked and talked about this person and how he wanted to do it and he asked me what I thought.” Once more, Steve’s looking at Xan, and the boy swears he’s staring straight into his soul. “I told him I knew he’d found his soulmate. And that it was about damn time he asked. The look on his face that day, that’s how I’m gonna remember my friend. Because that’s who he was. He was… caring and compassionate and strong. The strongest man I knew.”

When Xan starts crying, Steve steps down from the podium and walks over to him, lifting him up from the seat and holding him close. And for the first time in the months since Bucky left, Xan feels like maybe… maybe he’s not alone. Maybe he’ll be okay.

Just so long as Steve’s here.

 

\- - -

That night, Steve and Xan walk down a row in the cemetery, Xan’s arms crossed over his chest and his eyes staring down at the ground. Steve’s silent as well, though his gaze is focused on the stars above them. After a moment, Steve turns to the boy and places a hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he says, and Xan knows he means it, but he doesn’t wanna hear it. He doesn’t care if people are sorry. He doesn’t care if they did all they could. His best friend, his everything, is dead. Gone.

And Xan can’t even say goodbye, because no one can know they were together.

Swallowing his pride (and his bitterness), Xan shakes his head. “Don’t---” he chokes, closing his eyes as his arms tighten around himself. “Don’t be. It’s… I-I knew there was a chance--”

“I don’t mean about Bucky, Xander.”

The boy blinks, stopping in his tracks before looking up to the soldier. And _God_ , if that’s not weird. The hell kind’a steroids did they give this guy? “What’d you mean, then?”

“That you couldn’t go up there. You had every right to.”

“Yeah, well… Last thing we need is his friends turnin’ on him ‘cause he’s a flit, huh?” Xan looks down to the ground and, suddenly, he feels like the world is spinning way too fast. “Don’t matter what area we lived in, Steve. Don’t matter that you’re damn near an angel. To the rest o’ the world, guys like me an’ him?...”

“I know,” the soldier mumbles, turning his attention back to the stars. “But you still got a right to say goodbye to him. You haven’t done that yet.”

“No, I haven’t. And I’m not sure I _can_. Tomorrow’s the funeral, Steve. He’s gonna be six-feet-under and you’re gonna get shipped back to Europe and I’m gonna be right here.” He chokes on the last word. “...By myself.”

“...What if I could get you to sleep beside him one more time?”

Xan’s head shoots up, his eyes wide and full of emotion. “You--... You _what_?”

“Guy’s standing guard outside of the room where they’re keepin’ him. If I take over and have the night shift, I could get you somethin’ to lay on and you can sleep in there tonight. And that’ll give you plenty of time to say goodbye, right?”

“You’d… do that for me?”

“Of course I would.”

And he does. Because not half an hour later, Xan’s inside the room where they’re keeping the casket, a small nest of blankets on the floor near it. Steve is standing watch outside the only door there, so Xan knows he’s safe. His hands are shaking as he approaches the coffin, and when he touches the flag shielding the wood, tears sting his eyes. “Hey, mi sol…”

God, this is painful. He doesn’t even know if Bucky can hear him. He’d like to think he can, that he’s there, watching him, but he doesn’t know. He thought the same thing about his mom, but he’s still not sure about _her_ , either. He swallows thickly, hands running along the fabric before they return to his sides.

“The… The ceremony was beautiful. So many of the guys in your battalion cried. Honestly, I was surprised. Not, you know, ‘cause they were cryin’ over _you_ or anythin’. Just… the fact that they cried at all, I guess.” He looks down, sweaty palms brushing against his pants before he gets down onto his knees. He adjusts the blankets a bit, then lays down, eyes focused on the ceiling as he rests his hands behind his head.

“...Remember the first night we spent together?” he asks, turning his head to look up at the coffin. “God, I was _terrified_ of you. You could probably see it, too, you bastard.” He smiles, chuckling under his breath as he turns his head to the ceiling again. “You loved how nervous I was around you at first. Like all you had to do was look at me a certain way an’ I just… _melted_. And that night was no different. I’d come over to listen to somethin’ on the radio, right? I think it was one of FDR’s fireside chats. I loved those so much. And you, with your damn smile, _God_ , you just… It was the alcohol. I’m sure of it. Because I’d been tryin’ so hard not to fall for you, but that goddamn vodka loosened me up so much that I told you _everything_.” And now he’s grinning like an idiot. “And then I didn’t leave for, what was it, three nights? Jesus. My neighbor thought I’d died or somethin’.”

He starts laughing, and it feels good, remembering moments like this. The moments that seemed so small at the time, but are so monumental to him now.

“Remember that time Steve got into that really, _really_ bad fight? God, I don’t think I’d ever seen you so mad. I mean, I was mostly focused on Steve, but you _flipped_. You gave me a new appreciation for angry sex that night.

“Nothin’ beats the first time I told you I loved you, though. The look on your face is…” His eyes burn with tears. “ _Was_ …” He sighs, eyelids fluttering before sliding shut. “...You were perfect,” he breathes. “ _So_ fuckin’ perfect. Your eyes lit up and you looked absolutely stunned that someone would love you. But I kept sayin’ it, and the more I did, the brighter your eyes got. And I thought I was in love before.”

He’s shaking like crazy, and suddenly he feels like he can’t catch his breath. Like someone’s sitting on him and crushing his chest. He sits up and pulls his knees in, holding them tightly to his chest as he buries his face in his arms. It takes seconds for him to start crying, and once he does, he doesn’t stop. He cries because he’s lost his boyfriend, sure, but it’s so much more than that. Bucky’s the reason he felt like he’d be okay again. Xan was so lost when they met, and knowing Bucky healed him. Every touch, every kiss, every word picked the kid back up and put him back together again. Everything about that man made Xan feel like maybe, just maybe, he’d be the man his mother wanted him to be.

What’s he supposed to do now that the light guiding his path is gone?

He doesn’t know how long he sits there crying. He doesn’t know when he exhausts himself to the point that it’s hard to keep his weary eyes open. All he knows is that the gaping hole in his chest has grown, and he kinda just wants to lay here and never move again.

So, he does. He lays down, burrowing deep in the blankets, and he closes his eyes. He’s quiet again, his heart drumming in his ears. When he finally gathers the courage to open his mouth, he doesn’t speak. No, instead, he sings.

Because Bucky loved that about him. He loved it when Xan would sing. Said once that he’d marry his voice, if he could.

He almost did.

“How much do I love you?” His voice is a lot softer than normal, because he just doesn’t have the strength to sing any louder than this. He rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling, but he doesn’t see it. He’s imagining Bucky’s face, thinking of what he’d do if he heard Xan singing this song. “I'll tell you no lie… How deep is the ocean? How high is the sky?

“How many times in a day do I think of you? How many roses are sprinkled with dew? How far would I travel just to be where you are?...” This is the song he was going to surprise him with at the wedding. The wedding that’s not going to happen now. God, and if that’s not a dagger to the heart… “How far is the journey from here to a star?” Too far. Way too far. Because now his soldier, his sun, his _light_ , is high up somewhere Xan can’t follow. “And if I ever lost you, how much would I cry?” He wouldn’t stop. He _hasn’t_ stopped.

Living without Bucky is a nightmare, but he has to do it. He has to keep going. Bucky… He died to keep people safe. He was brave. The bravest man Xan had ever known.

And now, he’s gotta keep going. In memory of him.

Because Bucky? He showed Xan what real bravery is. And now that he’s gone, it’s up to Xan to carry the torch. It won’t be easy, but it’s what Bucky would’ve wanted.

“How deep is the ocean...? How high is the sky...?~”


	2. The Sharp Knife of a Short Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I posted this fic on my Twitter account for my Bucky to see, and they ended up writing this in response. I decided to add it to the work itself, because I'm gonna write Xan getting the letter a little while later.
> 
> Oh God, though. I'm so.
> 
> Okay. Again, I didn't write this. This was my _fantastic_ partner on Twitter. I'd say "enjoy," but... uh. No???

**November 1943**

_My love, my star, my babydoll. My Xan._

_Before I say anything else, I want to say I’m sorry. I’m sorry, because I’m gonna have to break the promise I made you, and that’s something I never meant to do. I told you I’d take care of you, kid, and I meant it, I swear I meant it. I always meant to come back for you. But I can’t lie to you, babydoll. I’m not so sure I’m walking out of here._

_I’m sorry._

_The second thing I want to say is that I love you. You have to know that. It’s so important that you know that. I love you, Xan. I love you, I love you, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life telling you how much, but I can’t, so this will have to do. The thought of coming home to you is the only thing that’s kept me going over here. Don’t think for a single second that I ever stopped thinking about you. Got it? Good._

_I love you._

_The third thing is that I don’t regret a single moment of the way our lives turned out up till now. I wouldn’t do a thing different, babydoll. I’d live through this war a hundred more times if it meant I could see your face again. I’d let them torture me forever just for one more day, one more hour, one more minute with you. I’d do anything to get back to you, Xan. Anything. And I know that’s probably little comfort to you now, but it’s true. From the bottom of my heart, it’s true._

_I love you._

_The fourth thing, and I hate to do this, but I need you to take care of Steve for me. He’ll say he doesn’t need your help, but he’s wrong. And whatever you do, just please, PLEASE keep him away from recruiting offices. I know they won’t take him, I know that, but I also know Steve, and if there’s any way in hell, he’ll find it. Please do this for me, Xan. Stevie can’t go to war. War would break him._

_I love you._

_I’m running out of time, but the last thing I need to say to you is that I’m always gonna be with you, however I can, and I don’t know if that means anything, but it’s all I have left to give. I’m always gonna take care of you. At least, I’m gonna try. So the other thing I need from you, babydoll, is I need you to try for me. I need you to keep going, whatever that means. Whatever you have to do. It doesn’t matter, as long as you try. Promise me that. If nothing else, please promise me you'll try._

_I love you._

_My one regret, the one and only thing I would change if I had the chance, is that I didn’t get to marry you, in whatever way I could have. You’re the love of my life, Xan. My best guy. My one and only. Do what you will with the ring, it’s yours just as much as I am. My name is yours, too, if you want it. Everything is yours. Everything I have and everything I am._

_I love you, Xander Barnes. I’m sorry._

_Always,_

_Bucky_


	3. You'll remember me...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The year and a half following Bucky's death is exceptionally hard on Xander.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves, and for the love of God, make sure you have tissues nearby.

**January 1944**

James “Bucky” Barnes is buried in Arlington National Cemetery. The day is as still as a painting. The sky is blue, the snow is shining, and as a 21-gun salute rings through the air, a young, curly-haired boy falls to his knees, his face buried in his hands. The men around him lower the flag-covered coffin into the ground, and no matter how the boy tries to find the words to say, he can’t. He’s always been so horrible with words when they mattered most, which is why he’s always turned to song to help him through moments like these. But he can’t even do that. Not this time.

He’d been so ready to say “I do,” but instead, his heart is singing a different tune. It sings of sadness, of pain, of loneliness. It sings a tune that Xan is all too familiar with.

A tune that sounds very much like “goodbye.”

 

~ ~ ~

**05 February 1944**

The last thing he wants to do today is celebrate his birthday, so instead, he’s packing. Boxes of every size litter his apartment. His lower back, his arms, and his legs all ache from how hard he’s been working to get this place -- to get this _life_ \-- packed away, but he keeps going. Keeps pushing himself. He can’t stop, not now. Because if he stops, the memories come flooding back. If he stops, he’ll remember.

And he can’t do that.

Another swig of vodka and he’s back at it, separating things he’ll put in storage from things he’s taking to his new apartment. It’s a lot smaller than this one, but it’s not like Xan needs much space. He’s alone now, after all.

More vodka, and he shivers, nearly dropping the bottle as he leans against the wall. He tilts his head back and closes his eyes, lips parted as he struggles to catch his breath. He’s been running himself into the ground, and with no intention of stopping. He knows that would’ve worried Him, would’ve had Him coming up behind him and wrapping his arms around the boy, murmuring how he should stop working so hard and relax into his ear.

If Xan is really quiet, he can still hear His voice.

“...NO!” he yells, throwing the bottle in his hand at the far wall. It shatters upon impact, the little bit of alcohol that was left dripping down the wallpaper as shards of glass gather below. His body is shaking as tears sting his eyes, hiding his face in his hands as a desperate cry leaves him.

He can’t think about Him. He can’t. He _can’t_.

 

~ ~ ~

**10 March 1944**

He’s always known that running is pointless. Because at some point, you forget why you were running in the first place. You get tired. Your legs grow weak. And what happens then?

You stop. Altogether.

And that’s when the memories, the emotions, _everything_ you’ve been trying so hard to avoid comes crashing into you. Let your guard down for a minute, and you’re a goner.

Xan knew he shouldn’t have run the way he did. He knew he couldn’t do it forever, but he thought he’d have longer than a couple months. He thought he could at least get some semblance of a life together before everything came apart. But no. As soon as he wakes up on the tenth, he realises what the day is, and once those floodgates open, they don’t close again.

It’s the first year he hasn’t celebrated Bucky’s birthday with him since the two met, and he’s never felt more shrouded in darkness than he does right now. Clutching Bucky’s pillow to his chest, he buries his face in it and cries so hard his chest aches. His body is trembling violently, like all of the sorrow, all of the grief, he’s kept bottled up inside for months is desperate to come out of him, all at once. He cries for the life he thought he was going to have with his soldier. He cries for how hard it’s been getting out of bed, how he’s pushed the man so far back into his head that it’s hard to think of him without dragging a world back with him.

He cries because he’s angry. Because he’s scared. Because he’s hurt. He cries because he doesn’t know what to say.

After laying there like that for hours, he suddenly shoots up, throwing the blanket off of him before running out of the room. When he reaches the kitchen, he pulls down a bottle of vodka and opens it. What better way to celebrate his dead would-be husband than getting absolutely drunk, right?

Not that that’s what he’s doing. He’s not. He just can’t think about this anymore.

But even when the alcohol has him laughing at nothing and tripping over himself, he can’t stop thinking about Him. Bucky. In fact, as he sits down on the couch to listen to the radio (FDR’s doing another chat tonight), he swears Bucky’s sitting right beside him. The boy leans over, resting his head on the pillow that he’s convinced is his boyfriend’s lap, and he smiles like crazy, his head spinning so fast he feels woozy. But it doesn’t matter, because Bucky’s here. Bucky will make everything better. He always does.

“I love you,” he says drunkenly, closing his eyes. The vision doesn’t respond, but that doesn’t matter, because Xan’s being dragged under, exhaustion and the amount of alcohol he’s consumed finally getting to him.

Just before everything goes black, he smiles.

“Happy Birthday, mi sol…”

 

~ ~ ~

**April 1944**

The bartender at the restaurant Xan’s been working in since Bucky was shipped off to war finally gets up the courage to ask the boy to dinner. Thinking that it couldn’t possibly hurt, Xan agrees. And, much to his own surprise, he has a good time. It’s nice to talk to someone who knows nothing of the war, really. Whose interests are almost exclusively Broadway-related. The guy’s adorable with how excited he is about the new show, “On The Town.” Thinks “New York, New York” is one of the best songs ever.

It’s… refreshing, getting out again.

Until, of course, the guy walks Xan to his apartment building and seems insistent on going up with him. When he tries to kiss him, Xan loses it. Fucking _loses_ it.

That night is the first night he accidentally overdoses.

 

~ ~ ~

**June 1944**

When he looks himself in the mirror, he doesn’t recognise the man staring back at him. At first, that’s a bit alarming, because when did he get so… tired-looking? So ragged? When did he lose the life in his eyes, or the color in his face? Over time, he grows more accustomed to it, until one day, he doesn’t give it a second thought. This is who he is. A wasted man. He doesn’t go a day without riding a high, because he’s become addicted to the rush, the euphoria, and he forgets about _everything_ when he’s like that.

He doesn’t think about Bucky anymore. He doesn’t wonder why he wears an engagement ring, why no one questions him about it when he brings them home, why he can’t take his dog tags off without freaking the fuck out. He doesn’t notice the folded up flag resting on the dresser in his room. Well, not until the flavor of the week mentions it. They always think it’s because of a family member. A brother. An uncle. A father, even.

And Xan, without thinking about it, always corrects them.

“He was my fiancé.”

Pity sex is nothing like angry sex. Or hate sex. And no matter what, no matter how hot the guy is that Xan ends up with, it always, _always_ leaves him feeling disappointed. Like he loses a part of himself every time he lets someone in. Like he’s searching for something, but he can’t seem to find it.

He’s starting to wonder if he ever will.

 

~ ~ ~

****October 1944** **

This time, the overdose is intentional. This time, he leaves a note.

_I’ll love him ‘til I die._

 

~ ~ ~

****January 1945** **

It’s a beautiful, clear day, exactly one year after Sergeant Bucky Barnes was buried. A young, curly-haired man steps out of a rehabilitation center and into the warmth of the sun, and for the first time in over a year, he smiles. It’s bright and happy, much like the boy he’d been before December of 1943. When he could laugh at everything, when he could sing. When he was Xander, not the shell of a man who took his place for thirteen months.

He can feel Bucky looking down on him, and he can’t help but look up at the sky, his smile growing so it takes up his whole face. When he lowers his head again, he slides the diamond ring back onto his finger, and he swears, his heart swells the way it had when Bucky did it, almost two years ago now.

Two years… Jesus.

“I love you, Bucky,” he says quietly, his heart breaking just a little bit. This isn’t the first time he’s said the man’s name since he died, and it certainly won’t be the last, but… it’s getting easier. His therapist keeps saying it’ll bring him closure, but he’s not so sure about that.

Still, he’s willing to try. He’d do anything to make Bucky feel proud of him. Anything.

 

~ ~ ~

****05 February 1945** **

“Happy birthday, Xander!”

The boy smiles at his friends, all of whom have surprised him at his home with cake and a whole bunch of presents. (Seriously, where do these guys think Xan’s gonna be able to put them all?) There are seven people in his apartment now, and the air is so lively, so full of energy and positivity, that he almost forgets about the dark cloud looming over his head.

Almost.

Today’s his birthday. His twenty-eighth, to be specific. And that’s not really a special age or anything, but… That means he’s older than Bucky now. And God, does that hurt. He fiddles absentmindedly with the ring on his finger as his friends go on and on about… well, Xan’s not entirely sure. He stopped listening at some point.

“Yo, Barnes!”

Xan looks toward the kitchen, his heart skipping a beat as he stands up. Every single time someone calls him that, he feels like his chest is both swelling like crazy and caving in. “Yeah?”

“You gonna sing for us or what?”

The boy chuckles, shaking his head as he leans over to pick up his glass of champagne. “No, not tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I’m just… not really feelin’ up to it, I guess.” He feels a tug on his sleeve and he looks down, brow furrowed before he realises his friend is pointing to the door. Someone else is here? What? “Who else could possibly…? Hold on.” He takes a sip of his drink as he makes his way to the door. The alcohol must be getting to his head already, because he feels almost giddy, and he can’t help but smile like an idiot as he opens the door. “Hello---”

The soldier on the other side smiles, and it’s just as goofy and bright as Xan remembers it. “Heard it was your birthday.”

“Oh my God,” he breathes, covering his mouth with his free hand. After a second, he starts laughing, turning so he can set his glass down on the stand beside the door before he throws his arms around his friend’s waist. “I can’t believe you’re here! Jesus, how-- how’d you find me? What are you doing here? Can you stay?” He looks up at him. “Please stay. Please. I know it’s late and I know I got, like, six other people in there, but they’ll all love you, I promise.”

“Barnes! Come on, it’s your birthday! You _gotta_ sing.”

Steve’s brow shoots up into his perfect hair as he looks down to Xan, whose face is now multiple shades of red. He chuckles nervously, turning around to shout that he’ll be back in a minute, then he shuts the door and hides his face in his hands.

“Barnes, huh?”

“Shut up,” Xan whines, shaking his head. “I… I got outta rehab last month and I just… I dunno, it felt right, I guess. Got it done legally just last week, actually.” When he lowers his hands, he’s smiling like crazy. “Happy birthday to me…~”

“I’m sure he would’ve been fine with it. You two were gonna get married anyway.” He pauses, looking down to the envelope in his hand, then lifts his head to meet Xan’s curious gaze again. “So, I’m guessing that means you’re not seeing anyone, huh?”

“No,” he says, lifting his left hand to show Steve the sparkling diamond ring still on his finger. “I’m not plannin’ on takin’ this off anytime soon. And ‘fore you say anything, yeah, I know. It’s real unhealthy for me to still be so crazy about him. He’s been gone a year. I know. I just… can’t help it. It doesn’t feel right without him. None of it does.” He looks down to it, fingers stretching a bit before he sighs. “...I’m older than him now. That’s… weird to me. Real weird.”

Steve nods slowly, his hands still fiddling with the envelope. He’s quiet for a minute before he manages a smile. “You look good, Xander. Never woulda guessed you’d been in rehab. What was it, alcohol?”

He smiles at the irony. “No. Heroin, actually.”

Steve didn’t see that one coming, if his expression has anything to say about it. “...Oh.”

“Got real bad after he died. But I’m startin’ to pick my life up again.” Another sigh, another shake of the head, and then he’s shrugging. When he lifts his head to look up at Steve, his hand immediately goes to touch the dog tags hidden beneath his own button-down. “So, when’re you comin’ home, kid? I miss you here.”

“No idea,” the soldier admits, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve got some big things planned for the next few weeks. If all goes according to plan, we might be able to pressure Germany into surrendering, but the chances of that are---”

“Slim to none,” Xan finishes, nodding his head. “Yeah, I know. The Nazis are crazy fuckers.”

That makes Steve laugh. A lot. “You’re tellin’ me.”

“Still. You gotta come home soon. I know you’re a big hero and all, but…” He trails off, flashing the man a coy smile as he leans back against his front door. The way Steve’s face twists into one of humble embarrassment is so goddamn endearing. Reminds Xan of the scrawny little boy he used to be. “...He woulda been so proud of you, you know that?”

“I’m not so sure. I mean, I was too late---”

“No,” Xan says, and suddenly, he’s serious. Too serious. He pushes off of the door and steps closer to Steve. “Don’t you dare do that. Neither of us blame you, okay? You did all you could.”

“I know.”

“There are kids playin’ in the street and pretendin’ to be you. You know that? You’re inspiring more people than just me an’ him now.”

“I’m just a kid myself, though. I don’t know how this happened.”

“You’re not just a kid. Both of us always knew that. We just…” And now Xan’s starting to tear up, so he looks down. He has to be strong. He’s been trying so hard to keep it together tonight; he can’t fall apart now. Not now. “...We needed to keep you safe. That’s all. Though, I guess you’re the one keepin’ me safe now, huh?” He wipes his eyes, wishing the pain in his chest would just go away already. “...Thanks for that. For doin’ what you do.”

“...Here,” he says, holding the envelope out for Xan. “It’s for you. Read it when you’re alone.” Before Xan can ask, Steve smiles a little. “It’s from him.”

...What? The boy’s eyes widen as he lifts his head. He doesn’t say anything as he swallows hard, looking to the envelope before taking it from the soldier. “Okay…”

“I can’t stay. Wish I could, but I really just dropped by to give you that. We’ve got---”

“Big important hero stuff to do. I know.” He smiles up at him, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just… please take care of yourself, okay? Since I can’t be there to do it for him, you gotta do it. Don’t do anythin’ stupid.”

Steve just smiles, reaching forward to ruffle Xan’s hair before he turns and walks away, leaving Xan feeling alone. Again.

Because even with a house full of people, he feels the weight of Bucky’s absence. It’s not just a dark cloud anymore. No, now, it’s a torrential downpour. The very pressure in his apartment has shifted. It feels heavier, like there’s an even bigger storm coming, and he knows - he _knows_ \- he’s gotta clear the place out before it hits. Because once it does, it’ll be bad.

Once it does, he’s not sure he’s gonna be okay anymore.

One by one, they all leave, until it’s just Xan left in an empty house. He leaves the glasses in the sink, choosing instead to turn all the lights out and make his way to the bedroom. He’s gotta read this. He’s gotta find out what Bucky left for him.

His hands are shaking once he’s seated on his bed, but somehow, he manages to pull the folded paper out from inside of the envelope. He takes a deep breath before unfolding it and turning it so he can read what it says.

The very first line has him in tears.

_My love, my star, my babydoll. My Xan._

Babydoll. God, does he miss being called that. He shifts so his back is pressed against the headboard, his legs pulled up to his chest as he holds the paper with both hands.

_I always meant to come back for you._

Of course he did. And of course he’s apologising, but really, he doesn’t have to. It’s not his fault he didn’t come back. He got… He got taken. He was kidnapped, probably tortured, and---

Oh God, that’s not something he should’ve thought. Because now Xan’s sobbing, the thought of his would-be husband being tortured and left for dead just too much for him to handle. He closes his eyes and tries to get a grip, but he can’t focus, can’t _breathe_.

“I’m sorry,” he finds himself saying, the paper falling from his hand as he wraps his arms around his knees. “God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t---”

He’d said things. Horrible things, back when he was first trying (and failing) to cope with the loss. He’d felt things he shouldn’t have. Grief turned him into a nasty person, and at one point, he got mad at Bucky for leaving in the first place. For making promises he couldn’t keep. In hindsight, he knows that was the grief talking. He knows he didn’t mean any of it.

But does Bucky?

He knew. That’s something Xan can’t get over. He knew he wasn’t gonna make it. God, what was that like for him? Was it scary? Probably. Bucky was probably terrified out of his mind. But Xan bets he was brave about it. He bets Bucky was courageous and strong and that’s why they did horrible things to him, because it took a lot to break him. Too much.

Bucky was, and always will be, the bravest man Xan has ever known. And it may not have been forever, but that decade or so that Xan spent with him was filled with memories that will carry the boy on until he dies. Until they’re finally reunited.

Until he can finally get over his pride and tell Bucky just how much he loves him. Because that, that’s one of Xan’s biggest regrets. He’d always been so afraid of those words. Even though he was positive that he felt that way, that it was the kind of love people wrote songs about, the kind that happens once in a lifetime, he was still afraid to say it.

And _God_ , does that hurt.

_The thought of coming home to you is the only thing that’s kept me going over here._

Funny, because that’s the only thing that kept Xan going too. On those nights when he felt Bucky’s absence the most, like the weight of the world was crushing him and it was all he could do just to keep breathing, he’d close his eyes and imagine them getting married. If one day they could do that in New York, Bucky and Xan would be one of the first ones to get their marriage license. They’d have a beautiful ceremony. Bucky would wear a necktie and Xan would wear one of his bow ties and they’d look so, so perfect together.

They _were_ perfect together.

Shit. He has a feeling he’s not going to stop crying.

_I’d let them torture me forever just for one more day, one more hour, one more minute with you. I’d do anything to get back to you, Xan. Anything._

“...I would too,” he breathes, his voice unsteady as he tries to talk through the tears. “God, I would’ve given anything to have you come home.” He looks up to the ceiling. “I’d _still_ give anything. It’s… It’s been over a year, and I’m still not over you. And I don’t think I ever will be. Everything still comes back to you and I---” He chokes, his eyes closing before he ducks his head. No point in wishing, right?

_And whatever you do, just please, PLEASE keep him away from recruiting offices._

He smiles in spite of the tears. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “Guess I failed you at that.” At everything. “He’s doin’ real well, though… Basically become a national icon. You’d be so proud of him. Scared out of your mind, probably, but… You’d be proud. I know I am.”

_I’m always gonna take care of you. At least, I’m gonna try. So the other thing I need from you, babydoll, is I need you to try for me._

He’s hysterical before he even finishes that paragraph.

The thought of Bucky, wherever he is, having to watch Xan fall apart the way he did? To watch him bury thoughts of him under work, under alcohol, under everything he could, just to break down and fall apart at random points throughout the year? To have seen him struggle with his heroin addiction, the overdoses, the suicide attempt, the rehab…?

Oh God, and all the guys he slept with between May and October, just to find someone who made him feel even _kind of_ the way Bucky did?

He keeps thinking of the nights he spent, coming down from a high and without anything to put him back up on another one, his body shivering and sweating, and how warmth would just… waft over him. Like someone pulled him into their arms and just held him close. He wouldn’t let himself think it at the time, but he always believed that was Bucky.

The night he tried to kill himself stands out above the rest, though. Because as Xan was drifting asleep, just before his front door was broken into and his neighbor found him on the bathroom floor, he could’ve sworn he felt the same kind of warmth, like Bucky had wrapped his arms around him and held him so he wouldn’t be afraid. If Bucky swore he’d take care of Xan, he has no doubts that Bucky did, because there’s no other explanation to Xan as to how he survived. In fact, he’s credited Bucky with that this whole time. Xan shouldn’t have made it. He’d taken way too much.

And yet, here he sits, pain gripping him tight and making him feel dizzy.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles pathetically, hiding his face in his hands. “Oh my God, baby, I’m so sorry. I didn’t--- I was a mess, I know, and that… that must’ve been so--- I-I didn’t mean to, I just---”

He did try. He tried to give up. He tried to join him, because he just couldn’t bear living alone anymore. He didn’t want to live in a world without Bucky. He _still_ doesn’t want to live in a world without Bucky. But… he wants Xan to try. He wants him to be okay.

He’s gotta keep trying.

When he finally calms down, both because of the guilt and the fear of facing a world without his partner, he lifts the paper and finishes reading the letter.

_Everything is yours. Everything I have and everything I am._

_I love you, Xander Barnes. I’m sorry._

So. Steve was right.

He can’t help but smile as he sets the paper aside, then forces the heels of his hands into his eyes. A miserable laugh leaves him as he shakes his head. Good thing Bucky gave him permission to take his name, ‘cause he’s already changed it. It’s legal now. He’s no longer Xander Michael Callahan. Now, he’s Xander Michael Barnes.

And God, does he love that.

Shifting so he can lay down, he stares up at the ceiling for a moment before rolling onto his side and grabbing Bucky’s pillow. He holds it close to his chest and buries his face into it, eyes closed and heart aching for a man he’ll never see again. For a life he’ll never have.

For a love he’ll never be able to let go of.

Because Xander? He’s a lovebird. He falls in love once in his life, just once, and he’ll love that person until the day he dies. Generally speaking, if lovebirds have been together for decades, the loss of one partner leads to the inevitable death of the other, usually within months. If, by some miracle, the surviving bird lives beyond that, they don’t mate again. Ever.

Xan is very much a lovebird, and he knows it. He’ll never find anyone like Bucky. And he doesn’t want to. Bucky was his everything, and there’s no way he’ll be able to replace him.

No way.

“I love you,” he murmurs to the empty space, before exhaustion drags him into yet another dreamless, restless sleep.

 

~ ~ ~

****04 March 1945** **

Somewhere over the ocean, Steve Rogers makes a date with Peggy Carter. It's bittersweet, because - just like Bucky before him - he knows he's not coming back. He knows this is it. And when he goes down, he goes down hard.

His last thoughts before everything goes black are of his best friend, and how glad he is that he’ll be able to see him again.

 

~ ~ ~

****05 March 1945** **

The news is made public. Captain America has disappeared, and many fear he’s died.

Xander hears the news while he’s preparing for a flight to Arlington; he’s planning on spending Bucky’s birthday sitting at his grave and talking to him. When it sinks in that his friend, the man who is practically his little brother, has gone missing, he feels the same fear he’d felt with Bucky. The same sense of dread.

Within seconds, the whole world goes black, and Xan goes from standing to falling to the ground, hitting his head on the counter on his way down.

He doesn’t wake back up.


	4. Would it be the same...?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set in the gap of time between Xan's suicide attempt and when he walks out of the rehab center in Chapter Three. He's trying to come to terms with Bucky's death, and it's... not going so well.
> 
> This is also the response to a prompt, which was probably supposed to be a fluffy prompt, but I'm incapable of writing happy things. Apparently.

**November 1944**

Thirty six days. That’s how long Xan’s been stuck in this place. He just wants out, wants to get the hell away from these white walls and these nurses and stop being told how to cope with something none of them can possibly understand, but there doesn’t seem to be an end in sight, and it’s really driving him nuts. He doesn’t want to face the fact that the love of his life has been dead a year now. He doesn’t want to grieve him, doesn’t want to accept that he’s gone, but these people won’t leave him alone about it.

God, you overdose on heroin _one time_ and suddenly the world is coming to an end.

The boy pulls his knees up to his chest and wraps his thin, trembling arms around them, his breathing shallow and irregular for the fourth time in an hour. All he can think about is what his fiancé would’ve done if he’d been the one to come home and see him unconscious on the bathroom floor. He feels so guilty for that, for leaving the door unlocked and subjecting his neighbor to it. He feels guilty for not being strong enough to handle Bucky’s death, for letting his life fall apart and not knowing what to hold onto to keep himself from crumbling along with it.

He feels guilty for everything, really. But it’s a little too late for that now.

Tears burn the backs of his deadened eyes, and Xan does nothing to keep them from slipping down his cheeks. He misses him. God, does he miss him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name, the way he’d smile and roll his eyes every time Xan would walk through the door with some silly sentimental thing, the way he’d hold the boy on those nights when all Xan could think about was his mother. He misses Bucky’s strong arms and even stronger heart. He misses feeling like he was home. Safe. Loved.

He misses his hero.

This is bullshit. He’s been running from admitting to himself that the man he was gonna marry is dead for so long; why sit him down and force him to face it all now? What, because the pain of the loss has gotten so bad that Xan wants to die too? Because he’d rather throw his life away than be without his soldier another minute? What does that matter to any of these people; aren’t gays an abomination to them, anyway?

It doesn’t matter how angry he tries to be at the staff, though. No amount of anger, of rage, of pain will bring Bucky back to him. He can try to hide how alone he feels, he can snap at the nurses and the other patients all he wants, but it won’t change anything. Maybe that’s what hurts the most. They’d always tackled whatever problems they had together, as a team, which is why they were so strong. Their relationship would’ve lasted the rest of their lives, Xan knows it.

But Bucky was taken from him, and now Xan’s supposed to figure out how the hell to live without him.

“I don’t wanna do this,” he whispers brokenly, shaking his head as he hugs his knees tighter. “N-Not without you. Please, baby, just… just come home.” He buries his face in his arm just as the dam breaks and he starts crying so hard he can’t breathe. His body is shaking, trembling violently from head to toe, and he can’t stop, no matter what he does. He can’t breathe, can’t think, just cries. And he keeps crying until the world around him starts to spin, and then everything goes black.

 

~ ~ ~

When he wakes up, he realises someone must’ve moved him - he’s laying with his head on the pillow and a blanket over him. He’d smile if he didn’t feel so out of it.

...Wait. Why’s the bed shaking?

Xan blinks slowly, then rubs his eyes to wipe the sleep from them. “Bucky…?” he murmurs, lowering his hands so he can focus on the sleeping form beside him. When he blinks again and realises the man isn’t disappearing, Xan’s whole face lights up and he moves closer. “Shhh, shhh, hey. Hey, it’s okay. It’s me. Xander.”

He’s clearly having a nightmare, which makes Xan frown. Maybe it’s about the war. The boy shifts, then pulls his fiancé into his arms. “Shhh… It’s okay, mi sol. It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe. I’m not gonna let anything hurt you. Shhh…” He gently runs his fingers through the man’s hair and presses a kiss to the top of his head, his chest swelling like crazy. He’s missed this so much. But he knew, he always knew, Bucky would come back to him. He’d find him anywhere, even in some dumb rehabilitation center.

“I love you,” he mumbles, the words rushing out of him. “I love you so much. Shhh, calm down, baby. It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Bucky keeps shaking, and Xan realises he’s gonna have to do more than this to calm him down. He gently rubs the soldier’s back, his eyelids sliding shut as he takes a deep breath. “I’ll be loving you always,” he sings quietly, ducking his head so his lips brush against Bucky’s ear. “With a love that’s true, always…” He wraps his arms tighter around him, not even bothered by the fact that the soldier hasn’t moved to do the same. Normally he would’ve by now, but it’s okay. He’s scared, it’s not his fault. 

Tears fill his eyes again, and he swears his heart is breaking, though he can’t explain why. Isn’t this what he wanted? To have the light of his life back?

Then, why does everything still feel so dark?

“When things you plan need a helping hand, I will understand, always… always.~”

He remembers going to see this. It was 1942, and Xan had insisted on it. Gary Cooper and Babe Ruth? Come on, everyone was going to see it. Well, anyone who liked baseball, anyway. And the fact that Cooper’s character comes down with a really horrible illness just makes the whole film so much more meaningful to Xan, considering what happened with his mom. But he remembers it like it was yesterday, getting all dressed up with Bucky and buying tickets to The Pride of the Yankees. And this song, God, it meant so much to him. He’d had it stuck in his head for weeks afterwards. He’d sing it in the shower, while he cleaned, while he and Bucky walked to the convenience store down the block. And every time he did, he had the same look in his eyes.

It doesn’t matter what anyone tries to tell him about this man - Bucky Barnes is his soulmate, and he meant what he’d written in that note. Xan will love him until he dies.

“Days may not be fair, always…” His voice cracks as he buries his face in Bucky’s neck. He can’t feel him. Why can’t he feel him? “Th-That’s when I’ll be there, always…” He tries to hold onto him tighter, but he can’t. “Not for just an hour… Not for just a day… Not for just a year, but… always.”

He chokes on the last word, his breath caught in a lump in his throat. He makes a strangled sound as he shakes his head. Bucky’s not really here, is he? He’s gone.

Xan’s alone.

The realisation leaves him feeling empty, and even though he recognises he’s clinging to a pillow, he refuses to open his eyes. Because for a moment there, he believed it was his fiancé. And maybe if he can go back to that, he’[[ be okay.

...No. No, he couldn’t. Can’t. Not without Bucky. The _real_ Bucky. Xan will never be okay again, and he knows it. Because he loved that man - _loves_ that man - too much to even consider letting him go.

“N-Not for just an hour… Not for just a day… Not for just a year, but… always.~”


End file.
